


The Blood of An Angel

by VesselOfLucifer (FayTheGay)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dark, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, References to Depression, dark themes, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayTheGay/pseuds/VesselOfLucifer
Summary: When Sam was just a baby, an angel tried to save his life. That's how he ended up with a guardian angel. Twenty two years later, Sam didn't believe in guardian angels anymore but that doesn't mean they aren't real.Event alterations stem from the first episode. It is still in universe and follows a few plotpoints from the show.DARK THEMES. I am an asshole. Pay attention to tags and warnings if you're triggered by dark topics.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an AU concept I've been toying with for a good while now. I wanted to write a Sabriel fic again but admittedly I have no idea whether or not that will play out at the end. I've frameworked a fair amount of the story so we'll see how it carries for the time being.

The first time that he interfered, was the night that Mary Winchester died.

Now, before everything begins, Gabriel would like to clarify something because a lot of people like to blame him for everything that followed. Things could be worse.

Probably.

Being a runaway had never necessarily freed him from his responsibilities. Oh, sure. As far as Heaven was concerned, it wasn’t him doing it. When he’d bailed, God had told him he could leave the Heaven part of his life behind. But it didn’t mean he could just _stop_. So, he delivered His little messages and God pretended it was some other Angel doing it and things were good.

Well, until 1983.

See, 1983 was the year that Lucifer’s Vessel was born and while Michael’s was assigned Raphael as his Guardian Angel. Sam wasn’t so lucky. Sam Winchester was born unprotected. Because Heaven didn’t care. God had gone off to wherever. So, when the time came and Lucifer sent Azazel for the youngest brother.

Gabriel was waiting for him.

It was the first rash decision he made revolving around Sam and Dean Winchester and ultimately, the repercussions were… unpleasant.

Also known as, The Fates were pissed.

The three showed their ugly faces in that room with him moments after the demon was a crispy fried chunk of meat and bone on the floor.

Time was frozen.

“This is not how things are supposed to happen, _Gabriel._” It was Lachesis that spoke first, all venom and hate.

It was no shock that the Fates could see through his glamour. They were as old if not older than him, no one really knew anymore. The lines were all far too skewed. “Heaven wasn’t interfering, so why shouldn’t I?”

“Because there is a _design_.” Atropos growled at him, “You aren’t meant to be a part of this yet.” A flash of Old Magic cut across her words, a warning. A threat that he was admittedly too arrogant to heed. Knowing how things went in the long run, Azazel's death was his biggest mistake in a lifetime of mistakes.

“Yeah well rules have never been my forte. Azazel’s dead. It’s done. The littlest Winchester is safe.” It was the least he could do when Heaven didn’t give a damn.

“No, it’s not. Sam Winchester _will_ be infected tonight. It’s just all a matter of how it happens.” Clotho spoke, a glint of ancient Fae energy showing through her eyes in the form of fire.

And yeah. In that moment, he probably should’ve booked it. After all, challenging the Fates had never really worked out well for… well anyone. Including him.

But the baby in that crib didn’t deserve any of the crap that would ultimately fall on his head.

“All the other Princes are uninterested in Lucifer. They won’t do it and a regular demon won’t fuel his body enough for what Lucifer needs.”

“No.” They agreed in unison.

That was sort of the moment that things spiraled out of control. Because apparently the sisters could control the actions of an _Archangel. _And honestly, he should have known that but despite them seeing through his glamour, he’d assumed he was stronger in raw power. The Fae realm was basically dead, wasn't it?

Whose idea was _that_?

“You will be the placeholder of history-” Lachesis started, catching hold of the strings of Fate that Clotho had drawn from within both him and the infant in the crib’s. Gabriel's glimmered silver, shining like the moonlight. Sam's glinted faintly like lead, shimmering away from the careful handling of the Fae being that's only purpose was to handle strings of Destiny. 

“-and you will do what must be done-” Clotho continued, holding his gaze.

“-whether you like it or not.” Atropos finished. Clotho took the two strings of Destiny and tied them to each other, Atropos clapping her hands together in a dramatic fashion that had absolutely no purpose other than flair. 

Which was basically where everything went haywire.

Because in the end, _he_ killed Mary Winchester. And the blood flowing through little Sammy’s veins?

Yeah. Not demon. Which was historically useful in creating psychic abilities. Hypothetically, the safer alternative. The problem was that Angel blood had never been used like that. And Archangels?

Yeah, no. No other Archangel would've ever been stupid enough to try it. No one knew what it would do. No one, except perhaps, the Fates who determined it would keep whatever Key Event was in play in line. 

So, he’d run, and he would like to point out that this again was not meant to go down this way.

It wasn’t.

But while watching the boys grow up, because he really didn’t have a damned clue what would happen, he made the worst mistake he could.

He got involved.

.-~*~-.

9 Years Later…

*~-.-~*

So, yeah. A few visits here and there as little Sammy’s Guardian Angel ensued as well as some knowing looks from another Fae creature known as a zanna that wisely kept his mouth shut.

Eventually, though. As the boy grew older, having both an imaginary friend and a Guardian Angel did nothing good for the future Hunter. Gabriel had been biding his time, known the outcome from fairly on. But something told him that the zanna hadn’t expected it. Poor Sully. The biggest optimist he had ever known in his long life.

Gabriel was perched in the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest as he resisted every instinct in the world to smite John Winchester. Sam was too _young_. This shouldn’t have been his life. He shouldn’t know about the monsters in the dark. Sully and Gabriel should have been playing with him on a playground with other kids around, not stuck in the motel room day in and day out. Moving between cities every single hunt.

Sully had this ridiculous bindle stick draped over his shoulder and the intent was so damned pure. The conversation between Sam and his ‘imaginary friend’ was heartbreaking. By the end the words had turned brittle as the young Hunter verbally attacked the zanna, unknowing of the impact the words would have on the very real person.

Because as far as Sam was concerned, his words couldn’t hurt a figment of his imagination.

“Pretend friend! You’re not even real.”

“Well, I’m- I’m here, as long as you need me.” There was something breaking in Sully’s voice with that statement. A struggle of staying strong for the kid, even when he was clearly about ready to fall apart. Normally, the zanna weren't thrown away by their children. They just drifted out of the child's life.

“I don’t need you anymore, Sully. I don’t even know why I made you up in the first place. I wish I could _unmake_ you up.”

“If- if that’s what you want.”

“It is, okay? Just go.”

“You have a good, long life, Sam.” Despite the fact that Gabriel could still see him, he knew that Sully was gone from Sam’s sight when the angry young man turned his focus to the Archangel lounging in his window.

“Since when do you know how to shut up?”

Gabriel didn’t take the bait for the argument, pushing out of the windowsill and spreading his arms to the side. “Do you want me to talk? Or do you want me to go too?”

“You aren’t really here, are you?”

“I’m realer than you’ll ever believe, Sammy. And so is he. We _are_ your friends. Sully loves you to death and you just broke his heart.”

And yeah. Sam wasn’t happy with him either. The string of words thrown at him were easily discarded because they didn’t matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. It was just the youngest Winchester being petulant. He was angry and defiant after years of neglect and abuse from his father. It was like looking at his brother a long time ago. When Yahweh first began creating Angels and that glimmer of jealousy was first born.

“We’ll miss you, Sammy.” Sam ignored him and Gabriel sighed softly, shaking his head. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“_Just go!_” Slumping his shoulders, Gabriel raised his hand and snapped.

Outside of that motel room, Gabriel skimmed his gaze across the zanna when he appeared next to him. “You know, he doesn’t hate you, right?” They could both hear the sound of the boy in the room, slamming around only God knew what in a temper-tantrum that reminded him far too much of his brother for him to ever be truly comfortable with it.

“I failed him.” The devastation in Sully’s voice broke his heart. They’d become cautious friends. The zanna being one of the five beings that actually knew his real identity. Where he’d run to when he’d fled Heaven.

“Don’t say that, Sully. He’s being a jerk.” A bar of chocolate appeared in his hand that he offered to the zanna. “We like it or not, he’s going to become a Hunter. Daddy dearest has made sure of that. He never stood a chance with this life.”

“I thought he’d go through with getting out of it.” Sully took the candy, staring at the chocolate before giving in and taking a small bite out of it.

“Don’t blame yourself, Sul. There are plenty other kids out there that’ll love to have you at their sides. You’re a badass imaginary friend with a heart any kid would be lucky to have. And I’ve got his back, whether he knows it or not.”

“You won’t leave him?” Sully asked hopefully, sounding a bit more at ease.

“I swear.”

Which was probably the worst lie of his life. But the moment that John Winchester started letting both of his sons hunt he absolutely _couldn’t_ stay involved. Not without killing the bastard. A tether on Sam’s lifeline was the only thing that Gabriel left his Charge before he went back to his Trickster life.

And that?

That was probably his worst choice.

.-~*~-.

Thirteen Years Later…

*~-.-~*

The second major time that he interfered, things weren’t quite as cut and dry. Sure, he’d kept Sam alive during his childhood. Hell, he’d helped Dean a couple times when Raphael had been shit at keeping an eye on his Charge. Sam didn’t seem to remember ever having a Guardian Angel or even Sully.

Which was probably for the best.

But that wasn’t the point. During his second time, Sam Winchester was twenty-two, in college, and he wasn’t actually at his school.

“Jessica Moore?” The woman had opened the door to their apartment, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion at the unfamiliar face. Not to mention the late hour. It was a fluke that he’d heard about Lilith’s plans, the white-eyed demon gladly taking over Azazel’s when the yellow eyed demon… disappeared.

Absolutely what happened. Hundred and ten percent. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Can I help you?”

“Potentially. I’m actually here on work business. Is Sam Winchester here?” No, he wasn’t. But it didn’t really matter that he knew because he was supposed to be playing dumb. He was playing a part, for the moment.

“No… but he should be back soon. I’m sorry, work business?”

“I’m an old friend. We did some work together when we were younger. I heard he was going to school here and I’ve got a friend in the administration.”

“Oh?” The conversation fell into something easy and comfortable. Jessica bought into his story pretty easily, Sam’s reluctance to discuss his youth playing a huge impact on his ability to fabricate a believable story. The ‘facts’ were easy enough to pry from the woman’s brain, easier than trying to gather anything from the mind of a monster or Hunter. Because she was a normal human. No suspicion. No doubt that the world was what it seemed to her.

“Those cookies smell amazing. Can I?”

“I was saving them but- sure, here.” She disappeared into the kitchenette, returning moments later with a plate of cookies.

“So,” She started placing the plate between them. “You never have exactly said what you’re doing here.”

“Oh, just a bit of a conflict from the old job. Mike, our old boss. He ended up getting fined for underpaying staff and me and Sam were victims of that money scam.”

“So… you’re here to deliver a check? You drove halfway across the country to deliver an old friend a _check_?”

“Not as weird as you’re probably thinking. I was already coming this way. My older sister is in school here too. I was en route and rather than risking it getting lost in the mail, it made more sense to just bring it here myself.”

Her response was lost when someone knocked on the door.

“Maybe that’s him?” Gabriel asked as she made her way to the door. Only he knew full well that it _wasn’t_ Sam. The stink of the demon permeated his senses and he was well aware that on the other side of the door was Jessica Moore’s impending doom.

So far, the Fates hadn’t interfered. So maybe he _could_ save this girl. Theoretically, Lucifer didn’t _need_ Sam hunting to get his consent. If he tried, he could probably stop this part from going how Lilith wanted it to.

The conversation between Jessica and Brady -okay it wasn’t Brady but there wasn’t really time to get the demon’s actual name- turned tense when the demon noticed her guest.

Gabriel smiled, all teeth, flashing his golden Grace into his eyes. For just a fraction of a moment.

This demon wasn’t leaving here. He wouldn’t get to spread the information of the Angel that stopped him.

The demon’s true form curled under its meatsuit, the scaled, spiked tail wrapping around its ankle.

_Oh yeah. See me as a big scary Angel. You have no idea what you’ve gotten into, black eyes._

“Who’s this?” Gabriel asked, rising to his feet, cookie in hand. A nice wide smile, all friendly on the exterior.

“This is Brady. He’s one of Sam and I’s old friends. It’s been a while.” Probably since the demon shoved its way down the poor man’s throat. If he tried, he could probably save the meatsuit. But it all depended on how the situation played out.

“Seems like an old friend kinda night then. Probably hasn’t been _nearly_ as long since he’s seen me, though.” And maybe he was being a bit bold, allowing his wings to slip through their ancient glamour just a bit. He really couldn’t resist the chance to show off.

After all, he absolutely loved a show.

“Yeah. It’s crazy.” Brady responded blandly, tail flicking back behind him. Twitching nervously. He suspected that if the demon knew how to direct a prayer without name, he’d be getting called out for butting his nose where it didn’t belong. Instead, the creature was probably thinking really hard in his direction. 

“So, what brings _you_ around at this hour?”

“Excuse me?” There was a challenge beneath the exterior of the demon.

After all, Angels weren't known for being dramatic in any light. They were soldiers with sticks up their asses.

His gaze flickered to Jessica who was looking less and less happy with him. More annoyed. Which was a sentiment he was used to having directed in his direction but probably not the best for the situation he was currently in.

Maybe he needed to step back a bit.

“Sorry. It’s been a long night. Y’know… driving and all that. Didn’t mean that how it sounded.” _Absolutely did._

“Just came by to see if Sam’s still got the spare key to my room.” Brady held his gaze, a much more distinctive challenge beneath his gaze.

Maybe he _would_ smite the bastard. Here and now. It’d probably scar Jessica for life. Unless he wiped her memory. 

“He had a key to your room?” _Oh, that’s good._ Well, not good. But the premise behind it was deliberate. Clever demon. Not clever enough. He was going to roast before he was able to get Gabriel kicked out. Sam had displayed bisexual curiosities when Gabriel was still around, crushing on a boy that Gabriel didn't remember the name of anymore. Was he out with that information? 

“Yeah, you know…" Brady paused awkwardly, Gabriel's Grace burning with the desire to protect his Charge. "For if I ever got locked out.” Brady couldn’t possibly make that sound more genuine. The demon was trying to plant some sort of illicit affair seed in the human’s brain for when he was inevitably killed.

_Two minutes… probably. _Sam was close. The tether on his lifeline getting looser and looser as the Hunter grew closer and closer.

“What’s your game here, Brady?” _Screw it._

“What are you talking about?” Brady played dumb, narrowing his eyes at Gabriel.

“I mean it. What’s the plan? You walk in here, act all coy then slice her pretty little stomach open?” Just like The Fates... no _he _did. Technically, even if it was against his wishes. It had been Azazel's plan, though.

Jessica’s reaction was expected, one that he didn’t really have the patience for. A muffled confusion.

“Sorry, sweetheart. This is for the big boys.” A snap of his fingers and Jessica was stuck to the couch, her back to them for good measure, voice temporarily revoked. In hindsight, he should've just knocked her out but he wasn't thinking things through at the time and it was quicker to move and silence her than to knock her out cold. His powers were focused more on impeding than impairing. 

“So, I guess the games are over. I thought Angels weren’t getting involved.”

“Call me… a third party. Specially vested in the interests of Sam Winchester’s safety.”

“I’m not here for _Sam_.”

“No, you’re here to kill pretty little Jess. Which is more or less going to send my Charge down a path he isn’t going to come back from. So, you get one chance. Leave, before you hurt yourself.” Like Gabriel would _actually_ let him go.

The demon lunged.

Not for him, of course. And not physically- or the human equivalent. The demon within him tried to smoke out of the body, throwing himself towards where Jessica was firmly trapped.

In three easy strides, Gabriel was in front of him with his hand planted flat against his mouth, effectively shoving the dark cloud back in the body.

“That would be a no, I’m guessing?” Gabriel grinned when the demon went bug eyed, entire form curling in on itself as Gabriel flooded its system with his Grace.

“What the hell!” Gabriel hid himself when Sam came through the door. It was instinct more than anything. It had been a long time since he’d seen the Hunter and damn if the man hadn’t grown into his skin. What had once been an awkward and gangly boy had grown to a tall and respectable young male. Yeah, he had a basic understanding but seeing was different than knowing.

The Hunter had a gun in hand and Jessica was openly freaking out. Screaming and shouting.

_Damn it._

She was angry, confused, and scared.

_I can’t leave them like this._

Gabriel snapped his fingers, Jessica unconscious and laying on the couch.

“What the-” Sam spun around, pointing the gun at him as he gave in and let himself be seen again. “Who the hell are you!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Gabriel sighed softly when the Hunter shot him in the chest. “That won’t work on me.” So, Sam really didn’t remember him. Not that he really expected him to. It had been a long time and unlike Sully, he hadn’t been super active in his life back then. Even though he _had_ seen him.

“What did you do to her?”

“I saved her life, Sam.” Gabriel admitted, “If I hadn’t come here tonight, your girlfriend would be dead. That demon,” Gabriel gestured to the burnt-out body of Brady. “-was here today to kill her.”

“I’m not a Hunter anymore.”

_Hunter doesn’t change the blood running through your veins._ “I know. But demons want you back in the field. And… so does your brother if my understanding of where you were is correct.”

“_Who_ are you?”

“I can wipe her memory of tonight. But I’m going to tell you, and I hate to say this. As long as you’re here… she’s going to be in danger. She’s a target.” He avoided the question and the Hunter glared at him, angry.

“Why do you care?”

“It’s a long story. One that I don’t plan on telling you tonight. She’s going to wake up and she won’t remember any of this. Whatever follows, it’s your choice.”

Then he left.

Because leaving was easier than watching whatever would follow. No matter what that may be.


	2. Chapter 1: A Voice From The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I misclicked when tagging this. I upped the rating to M because that was what it was supposed to be from the start.
> 
> This is the first chapter but not the last that will directly reference abusive scenarios. This one is a child. You have been warned again.

.-~*~-.

GABRIEL

*~-.-~*

It wasn’t often that Gabriel got his hands dirty anymore. Not really. He had been purely hands off for the last fifteen years, left the dirty work to some of his more devout witches. If he didn’t get his hands dirty, he didn’t need to fake his death if and/or when Hunters stuck their noses where they didn’t belong.

It was his business what he did as a God. Just because Hunters didn’t see the humor in it, it didn’t mean he didn’t have his purposes.

But those were cases in dealing with piece of shit humans. Not demons. If Gabriel was honest with himself, he didn’t trust his loyal followers with this job. It was completely hands on for him and he really didn’t regret that. It had been far too long since he had the privilege to get his hands dirty.

The demon seated across from him had absolutely no idea what he was in for. “Loki,” The demon’s name was Markus. A thousand years ago, he was a simple farmer living in Northern Ireland. Now he was nearing the top of the food chain in Hell, advisor to King of the Crossroads. An angel blade that, in reality, Gabriel had no need for, was sat between the both of them. Glinting slightly beneath the single bulb above them in the room Gabriel had conjured up for the meeting. “This will not come cheap.”

“How did you get it?” He asked, holding his hand over the metal like he was confirming something he didn’t already know. It was curious how the demon had gotten his hands on the blade. If he was recognizing the lingering Grace properly, this blade belonged to Akobel. “Angels haven’t walked the earth in centuries.” Again, a lie. He knew damn well that Akobel had been on the Earth in the late nineteenth century and that he’d been killed for ‘fathering a nephilim’.

“They have. It is rare, but they do and when they do, well we take a vested interest in the events that happen.”

“I’ve been asking about these for hundreds of years. Not a single demon could point me in the direction of one. Tell me how you managed to get one here when so many others have failed.”

The demon seemed to analyze him, reading him for any deception like he wasn’t Loki, a master of lies. Whatever he found, however smart or stupid the demon was, a satisfied look crossed his expression and the demon nicked his finger, drawing blood and painting an old ward into the table.

_Silence._ It was fairly basic magic that would block out some of the stronger spying spells, blur their memories from outside invaders. Gabriel hadn’t seen that spell in a hundred or so years.

“There are whispers coming from The Cage.”

“Lucifer’s Cage?” He asked, sounding far more surprised than he actually was. Lucifer had never _stopped _talking. It was all he did. Solitary confinement put Lucifer in a position where he broadcast nonstop thoughts to the other Archangels for several hundred years. Constant nagging.

Until it _finally_ stopped somewhere around three hundred years ago. Back when Lucifer finally learned how to speak through the cracks in The Cage to those that would listen. It was only occasional now, the Archangel wavelength mostly silent. Four of the original seven Archangels alive and almost none of them saying a word. At least not where the rest of them could hear.

“Our Father is preparing to come home.” Markus continued obliviously, “and the angels have begun to surface. The rumor is that Michael is seeking his Vessel early.” That rumor was something he absolutely didn’t believe and he doubted Lucifer did either. Which begged the question of what was really happening.

“And Lucifer is training _demons_ to stop _angels_?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t the craziest idea but it was pretty far out there. Lucifer saw demons as slaves. Angels… were his family. For the most part.

“Yes. They are a new rank of demons known as The Order.”

“That’s a ridiculous name.” Gabriel snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Do you want this or not, Loki?” The look he received for his comment was hateful. Like he had committed a terrible crime by insulting the absolutely _awful_ name.

Of course, the demons worshipped Lucifer. His word was infallible and demons were just as bad as angels when it came to blind loyalty to their creator.

“About that…” Markus narrowed his eyes when Gabriel snapped his fingers. The wards that appeared on the walls were his own creations and they gave him exactly what he needed, as far as complete privacy went. Sure, the one on the table was strong. These ones were infallible. For the most part. There was a good chance an Archangel could shove its way in if it cared enough to try.

“What-”

“Markus, was it? I’m going to ask you again, and you’re going to explain to me _exactly_ what goals _The Order_ has.”

“And why would I tell some-” The words died in the demon’s throat when Gabriel allowed his True Form to flare, wings spreading wide behind him. Grace and power pouring off of him in waves. The once confident demon stumbled back, chair falling to the side as he tried to flee for the door.

“You can’t-”

Smiling with nothing but teeth, Gabriel grinned at the demon, stalking towards him and making the doors on the room disappear. “Don’t worry, you’ll live,” _Probably,_ “But only after we’ve talked.”

“I have nothing to say to you, _angel_.” Markus retorted, sounding _far_ more confident than he looked. Just out of the physical and right in the ethereal. While his demon form wasn’t quite cowering, it _was_ shaking. Trembling despite attempts to remain strong.

“Honestly? I was _really_ hoping you’d say that.” An absolutely devilish grin crossed Gabriel’s face. There was a moment where fear bled into the demon’s entire form before he replaced it with confidence.

_Brave. I like it._

The next time he snapped his fingers, a wail ripped from the demon’s throat.

.-~*~-.

SAM

*~-.-~*

The clock ticked mercilessly on the wall where Sam was waiting for his brother to finish talking to the officer. His head was throbbing, pounding mercilessly and his hands were shaking relentlessly. It wasn’t his worst hangover but he still felt like he’d been hit by a train.

Even with all the misery the alcoholism brought on, the alcohol kept the nightmares away. The visions of unfamiliar faces dying violent and bloody deaths -or not dying at all- that he never was able to make it to on time.

The beeping of his phone jolted him and it took a minute before he was able to fish his phone out of his packet to open it and stare at the single word text on his screen.

One word, one syllable. It had been long enough that the guilt that normally accompanied the number wasn’t there. Not anymore. He’d tried normal. Human. It didn’t work out. Even if it had… well, whatever the was happening to him now would’ve ruined it.

_650-555-2300: Sam._

There was a long moment that he simply stared at the message before he sent a response. It was hard to process any of it and he wasn’t close enough to sober or drunk enough for it to fully stick in his head. At first. Once it hit… it hit hard.

_Sam: You alright?_

_650-555-2300: I know I didn’t believe you back then_

_650-555-2300: but there’s been some weird things happening here._ That didn’t seem good… at all.

_Sam: What kind of weird?_

_650-555-2300: It’s hard to explain. Can I call you?_

_Knock, knock, knock_. He turned to look towards the driver’s side as Dean opened and dropped into the driver’s seat.

“How’s your head?” He asked, far too loud which caused Sam to groan loudly, glaring hatefully at him. “I’ll take that as an awful. Haven’t you learned your lesson about drinking?”

“Jess texted.” Sam said instead of answering the question Dean knew the answer to, turning his head to look outside and trying really hard not to think about the astounded look he knew he was receiving.

“Well?”

“She thinks she found us a case.”

“And?” Sam stared at the text on his phone, considering whether or not it was worth doing. If he could do it. There were times he hated that being that had shown up in their apartment that night. Times that he wished it would appear just so he could kill it… whatever it was. If her memory hadn’t been wiped, he wanted to imagine things would’ve gone differently. Not law school. Law school was a pipe dream now but… something else. Not even a relationship, just… companionship. Friendship. Not being hated by the person that gave him real normalcy for the first time in his life would be a nice start.

“We should go.”

“We’re on a case right now. You can tell her no and we can have Bobby send someone else her way.”

“Dean, just because she dumped me, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to check on her. What if it’s that thing that showed up that night?”

“I’m just sayin’… we’re in New Mexico and it’s not really a short trip. Shouldn’t we at least check in with Bobby, see if he doesn’t have anyone closer-”

“It’s _Jess_.”

“Sorry if I’m not diving in to help the chick that broke my brother’s heart.”

“You wanted me to leave her!”

“I wanted you to help me, Sammy. There’s a difference. You decided to tell her the truth and she threw you to the curb like a bag of trash.”

“Dean, it wasn’t that simple. You’re making it out like… like we hate each other, but we don’t. We’re still friends and my _friend _is asking for my help. You just want me to say no?” Maybe not friends. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation but he didn’t want her in danger. Some part of him _did_ still love her.

“I…” He gave his brother the best puppy dog look he could muster and smiled triumphantly at the defeat that crossed his expression. “Fine. But you get to call and tell Bobby he needs to send someone here. Ain’t no way that I’m explaining why we’re packing up and bailing on this mid hunt.” Dean didn’t mention Dad which meant he’d take care of it for him.

“Thanks, Dean.” He was already back in his phone, texting a short message and pressing send.

_Sam: Cant call but on our way. See you soon._

_650-555-2300: See you soon Sam._

.-~*~-.

GABRIEL

*~-.-~*

“Alright, Markus.” Gabriel started in, flipping the angel blade he’d taken from the table and considering the bound demon before him. What fun could he have with this? It’d been a while since he really sunk his claws into anything. “What does Lilith have to do with this?”

“Lilith?” The demon laughed, spitting at him. Missing by a fraction. “You must be behind. Lilith is _gone_, angel. She has been for a year now.”

Lilith was _gone_? “How?”

“An angel killed her.”

No angel would have ever risked killing Lilith. Lilith _couldn’t _die. Not here, not until everything else unfolded. There were incomplete puzzle pieces, things the Fates had outright told him needed to happen.

_Lilith is dead. How’s this part of your ‘perfect plan’, you bitches?_

“Markus,” The demon held his gaze, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Gabriel decided, flipping the blade through the air to balance on the tip of his finger.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Instead, I’m going to make you an offer.” He continued on like the demon hadn’t spoken. “At the end of this, I could torture you. I mean, I could have a _lot_ of fun doing it too. I haven’t done my own dirty work in a long while,” Gabriel flipped the blade. “I could torture you for hours, days, weeks. At the end of the day, we both know you aren’t going to tell me anything about The Order. Whatever secrets you have against angels, you clearly can’t use them on me. You’re a loyalist for Lucifer, though. Which I personally think is a fool’s feat, Lucifer hates demons more than he hates humans.”

“What is your offer?” The demon asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Amused at the least, possibly interested. Whatever Markus decided didn’t affect him in the long-run. He did gain from agreement but there were other demons with information out there.

“Your life in exchange for… information.”

“You want me to spy on Lucifer.”

“I can promise you, I’m a much more rewarding boss than my big brother ever can or will be. When he gets what he wants, Hell will be decimated. Believe me, or don’t, I don’t care either way. What I do care about is knowing _how_ he’s going to do it. You can keep your secrets, all I want in return is information on my big brother. Can you do that for me?”

“It depends on your return offer. I’m not unreasonable, but my life isn’t a good enough reward for betraying my Lord’s secrets. I _am_ devout.” Not nearly as devout as he was claiming if he was at all willing to make this deal. Lilith would’ve died before ever giving up anything and she never would have pretended she was down for it.

“If it’s reasonable.” Gabriel snapped and they were in what resembled a business room, both suited up and a wide smile on the Trickster’s face, the demon’s arms crossed in front of him with a conflicted look on his expression.

“I’m thinking a specialty rune, conceals my soul when I die, returns me to Earth an hour later.”

“I can do that but it’s a one-time thing, Markus. Demonic resurrection isn’t easy. Souls dying aren’t super common and I’m not willing to bring you back any single time you act like a dumbass.”

“One final question, _Loki_. Who’s to say that I won’t go and rat you out to the Pagans?”

“Because you’re a smart man. I’m a valuable asset and you know it.”

“Until I have your name, you are just a nameless angel hiding as a Pagan. I want your name. Your _real_ name.”

Gabriel faked consideration, a long and intense moment of staring where he pretended like he was thinking hard on the pros and cons of giving up his name. Like it was a difficult choice. Like he wasn’t about to lie his ass off. If he wanted Markus to trust him, he needed to play his part. This demon would not easily betray his master and he needed to pretend like he was giving up a lot to give it to him. Then he spoke, soft and firm. Wary. “My name… is Barachiel.”

“Barachiel is dead, though. Only three of the seven remain.” In actuality, Barachiel was the _only_ Archangel he was certain was dead. Sometimes he wondered about Anael and Jophiel’s demises and just how true they were. If Gabriel hadn’t been the one to kill Barachiel, he wouldn’t believe it at all.

“Michael and Raph are up in Heaven and Luci’s in his box. It’s much easier to ignore your brothers tearing each other apart when you cut off a pair of wings to fake your death. I can show you my wings again if you don’t believe me. If you’re as informed as you’re claiming, you’ll know that the little guys don’t have wings this big.” Sometimes he really missed his other set of wings, too. It wasn’t something that he let himself dwell too much on. As long as he never came face to face with another Archangel again, he would be safe.

“You don’t have to do that. I believe you,” At the very least, he believed Gabriel was an Archangel. It was obvious he was skeptical about his identity. Still, though. The demon’s eyes lit ever so slightly with the premise of seeing his wings again. Gabriel had to be _careful_. If he showed too much of his True Form, if he let Markus _see_ too much and he turned on him? Well, letting any gold show was a liability.

“Good. Now that we have that out of the way, I normally am not a stickler for rules but in this case…” He snapped up a contract that the two spent the next four hours filtering through, editing from both parties until they had something manageable. Loopholes available to him and probably to the demon if it tried hard enough but in that time of discussion Gabriel had taken to putting some of his own spells in place on the demon, guarding and hiding them just in case of an emergency.

“I will see you again, _Barachiel_.” The demon drawled before disappearing from the room.

The _warded_ room.

Now _that_ wasn’t what he’d expected. Laughing in spite of himself, he grinned, disappearing from the room with the angel blade in hand.

A voice echoed across his Grace, cold as the cosmos, nothing short of amused. It echoed across them and Gabriel knew Michael and Raphael would hear it just as well as him. Once, it might have scared him. But that was a long time ago. _‘Michael, are you there? I’ve heard some rumors, big brother. Someone is supposedly playing dirty. Not that it matters, I will get out of here. Sooner, rather than later.’_

.-~*~-.

SAM

*~-.-~*

“Jess,” The woman smiled nervously when she opened the door. Shifting from one foot to the next. It had been over a year since they were face to face and she was super anxious. Sam was on edge.

“Hey, Sam.” Dean was uncharacteristically quiet, “Dean.” She moved to the side, letting them through the door. The first thing that Dean did was make his way towards the kitchenette to raid the fridge, give them space to talk. Which he was partially grateful for but also somewhat annoyed because of.

“Thank you for coming, Sam. I would’ve understood…”

“It _is_ crazy, Jess. I don’t really blame you for thinking I’d lost it.” He laughed, the action sounding just as forced as it felt. Maybe this hadn’t been a great idea, but it was better than risking her life again. If it was a case.

God, he missed her. Even when she’d broken his heart.

“Since Sam was an idiot and wouldn’t ask what we had to drive halfway across the country for,” Sam flinched, shooting daggers towards his brother. “What’s the deal?”

“Right.” She shifted uncomfortably, looking between the both of them before looking at the floor. “It was… weird.” She swallowed, rubbing the back of her neck. “A couple days ago I was out with my girlfriend and it was a pretty normal night.”

It was moments like this he was grateful he’d told Dean about Jessica’s bisexuality because unnecessary comments wouldn’t be useful in this situation. At all.

“Until… well, you said you hunt monsters. Like… werewolves and vampires.”

“Yeah,” Sam eased up a bit, offering his hand which she took, squeezing tightly and breathing a shaky breath.

“We were on our way back to the apartment when what I swear to you looked like Dracula attacked some poor girl. And I know. You told me it’s not like the movies and… I know it’s crazy but-”

“Sam- your ex has lost it.”

“Dude.”

“Dracula ain’t real.”

“It wasn’t Dracula!” She turned then, giving Dean the most hateful look Sam had ever seen on her face. “It _disappeared, _you ass.”

“What do you mean disappeared?” Sam frowned, sharing a startled look with Dean. There wasn’t a lot that they’d hunted that disappeared. _Teleporting._

“It was there one moment, the next it was gone. We called the police but… well, the girl’s throat had been torn out. She was definitely dead. I know it sounds insane but there’s more. All sorts of weird things have been happening around campus. It’s why I was willing to consider it for even a moment. There was another incident about a week ago where one of the other students swore that he saw a werewolf turn under a full moon and an incident about a block away where a girl claimed that a flying man in green tried to convince her to sneak out her bedroom window, the parents caught it on video.”

_This is definitely weird._ But was it their kind of weird? The look Jessica turned on him was absolutely desperate, pleading. Normally she was strong willed, certain. This was fear, genuine fear and vulnerability. But what the hell kind of monster did something like this?

Why?

“Give us a minute, will you?” He asked, crossing the room to pull his brother into the kitchenette.

“Sounds like drugged up college kids and a creep. Sam-”

“Why would she lie? I know you don’t want to trust this and I think something’s off too but will it hurt anyone to at least look around? Just to be sure.”

“Fine. I don’t think it’s a good idea but… screw it, right? Might be able to have a bit of fun anyways.” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, turning towards the main room to watch as a smaller woman came through the door, bag dropping off her shoulder as she went.

“You must be Sam,” The woman said, meeting his gaze with her own dark eyes before looking towards Dean, “And… Dean.” She sounded less pleased.

“And you’re Ruby, right?” Sam asked, knowing already that it was the answer.

“The one and only,” She smiled widely at him, crossing the room to embrace Jessica when she came back out of one of the spare rooms.

If he were to guess, she was at least a solid foot shorter than him, long wavy brown down to her back. She was admittedly cute and the smile on Jessica’s face more than eased any of the strange built up tension that she might have caused.

Jessica was happy. That counted for something.

“She knows,” Jessica added as they separated. “Was more open to the idea than I was.”

“Really?” Dean asked with clear skepticism.

“I’m a major in folklore and mythology. It doesn’t take a whole lot to start questioning just how fake everything actually is.” Ruby answered dismissively, looking back towards Jessica. “You want me to walk to you to class?”

“I- Sam, you don’t-”

“I think we have everything we need from you. We’ll head back to the motel.” Dean interrupted before he could say anything. Much to his bitter annoyance.

“Room twenty at the Red Road Inn.” Sam informed her in the off chance she needed to come to their room. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened with someone they were on a case for.

“You’re joking.” Ruby grimaced and Sam shrugged.

“You guys could stay here. We have the couches and-”

“No, it’s fine.” Sam quickly interjected, “We’re a bit tall for the couches. It was really nice seeing you, Jess.” Sam tugged his surprisingly cooperative brother towards the door.

“Sam- thank you.”

“No problem.” He waved to her while him and Dean stepped out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

They walked back to the Impala in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words and discussion that neither of them were ever willing to have. Mostly Dean.

“Screw it.” Dean huffed when they settled into the car, the other hunter turning the ignition as he started his beloved car. “Is everything really alright? And don’t give me the crap I’d normally want to hear.”

“It’s alright,” He responded tentatively. “It’s just weird. Thinking that this is where I could be-”

Everything seemed to stop, a white hot pain shooting from the back of his eyes into his temples and down to the base of his skull. Everything went white for a moment and then he was being dragged into a vision.

_“HELP!”_

_There was a man about twenty feet from him. Blue eyes filled with drunken rage. A young boy curled in the corner with a bloodied lip, a black eye._

_“Please. Please, don’t.”_

_“Come here, boy.”_

“Sammy!” He jolted out of the memory, rubbing his temples as an address in Arkansas echoed in his mind on a loop.

_Round and round. Over and over._ _Help him. Save him._

“_Sam._”

“Phone.” He choked out, reaching blindly for the dash of the car. A few seconds later there was something solid in his hand and he was clicking buttons on his phone, violent eyes burned into his vision. The helpless cry echoing with the address. He knew who to call for this one. He might be able to _help_ this one. A woman he knew worked law enforcement in Arkansas. An officer they had met while tracking a werewolf around the time these awful visions started.

_“Sam?”_ The concern in her tone was the same that is always was when he called with absolutely no preamble. Because she knew. She knew all about his visions of death and abuse. The terrible things he had been forced to watch.

“It’s a kid. Maybe ten. His dad’s drunk off his ass and I don’t know how much time we have but- I have the address. Please. Get someone out there.” He rattled off the address and hung up without anymore words, rubbing his temples and reaching for where he kept his bottle in the floorboard. Everything _hurt_ and all he wanted- no _needed_ was for those images and sounds to go away.

“That bad?”

“Not the worst.” He murmured, taking a heavy swig off the bottle before looking out the window. The apartments were gone, the car now parked in front of the near no-tell motel. Silence stretched long and heavy between them as the images of a terrified child danced behind his eyelids again.

They hadn’t stopped since not long after he left Stanford. Getting worse and worse over the last year. But this was the second time in a week it had happened while he was awake. They were frequent when he was sober and asleep but the ones that came during the day- they didn’t come that often. They weren’t supposed to. The inconsistent hell he had been in had at least been manageable at that rate. He still was struggling to get over the last one. A woman he hadn’t been able to save.

_I saw her die. Please, Helen. Save the kid._

“I was out for a bit.” The words were rough, sticking in his throat. Too casual. Like he hadn’t just been the witness of something awful.

“Yeah, I know how they get so I figured getting you here…”

Dean let the thought trail off but Sam knew what he meant. _Getting you here would give you quick access to the bathroom if you need to puke your guts up again. Or drink until you can’t stay conscious anymore. _

“Thanks.” He breathed out, staring at the room number. _Twenty two_.

“Hey-“ Sam shoved the car door open and made his way out to push open their room to throw himself on his bed, downing the bottle the whole way there.

He just needed to sleep it off and the easiest way to do that would be passing out into the blissful dreamless sleep the alcohol brought on for him.


	3. Chapter 2: A Hunter's Life It Seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Guess what! This fic isn’t abandoned! Sorry it’s taken so long for me to get around to it. I’ve been on a sort of fanfiction burnout but hopefully am gonna get back into working on this!
> 
> Now for the original note I wrote.  
So, I spent a lot of time thinking about how I’d approach John in this fic. I have a lot of dislike for John because he was neglectful and abusive. He is not a good father and while he has the best intentions… yeah, I won’t justify him. John is frustrating and I have a lot of hate for him. That said, I’m going with my gut on what feels right here.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of and references to child abuse, rape, pedophilia. These sorts of topics will be addressed on more than one occasion. You have been warned.
> 
> This is the first time that I’ve ever scrapped over 15k words in writing a chapter. I rewrote it from scratch four times before it became what it is now and I’m still a bit wary.

.-~*~-.  
DEAN  
*~-.-~*

Dean hit his forehead on the steering wheel, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and dialing the familiar number. It rang three times before, by some miracle, the line clicked.

“You better have a damn good reason for leaving that hunt, Dean.”

So Bobby had told him. He had to wonder how that had come up in conversation. “We did. Jessica called Sam with a hunt.” There was silence from the other line and Dean found himself holding his breath, hopeful his dad understood without him having to justify risking more bodies piling up.

“How is he?”

Exhaling slowly, Dean glanced towards the motel room where his brother had disappeared before looking back at the steering wheel. “He’s fine. But- you told me to let you know if he had another vision.”

Not just a vision. The visions were relentless. Sam didn’t even bother hiding the ones he had at night anymore because the drinking had him spilling the truth of some of the awful things he’d seen in the end of it all. If he was honest, he probably remembered more of Sam’s nightmares than Sam did.

It was the visions when he was awake that were worrying. The first one had happened while they were fighting a ghoul and nearly killed them both. Sam had begged him not to tell their dad but he’d been worried enough that he’d ignored the request.

“Are you guys okay?”

“As alright as we’re gonna be. He said he’s fine but I think he’s full of shit. It was a kid again.”

“Okay. Dean, I need you to keep an eye on your brother. If he seems like he’s getting worse you let me know.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Now this hunt. You think it’s the real deal?”

Dean resisted the urge to scoff. It wasn’t worth the lecture for it. “I don’t know. Maybe? It sounds nuts, though.”

“We deal in crazy, Dean. If people are dying, it’s your job to figure out who or what’s doing it.” _I know, dad. _Even if it was some human psycho, letting people die was a big _no_.

“Yes, sir.” They would deal with whatever was happening here and if it was a human they would tip off the local police before leaving.

“Good. Keep me updated.” The line went dead and Dean rubbed his eyes, tossing his phone in the passenger seat. Alright. That was settled. If he was to guess, Sam had gone to bed or was in the shower. Either way, he wasn’t coming back outside. Suddenly, Dean had a lot of regret that he didn’t get Jessica’s number before rushing out of that apartment so he could get some more local information.

What did he have?

Dracula. Werewolves out of a horror movie. Freaking _Peter Pan_.

Other than sounding completely and utterly made up and unrelated, there was nothing in common with any of them. He needed to look at the victims. Figure out who they were and what they were doing the night they died.

Because things were never simple and Sam wanted to help Jess which meant that they needed to treat it like any other hunt.

Curling his fingers around the wheel, he threw the car in drive and made his way towards the police station.

It turned out, the police station wasn’t far and after introducing himself as “Agent Plant, FBI” he was given the suspicious look that he often was handed in bigger towns before being asked for the number to his home office.

Bobby made quick work of the man in a verbal tongue lashing Dean could basically hear from the other line. Then the officer was letting him in to make his way down to the morgue.

“Agent Plant, FBI.” He repeated to the mortician who gave him a skeptical look.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here about the bodies from the college campus.”

“And the FBI is here because…”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and mouth off -that never ended particularly well- he put on his best false smile and repeated a line he’d grown fairly accustomed to in the last couple years. “We’ve seen this sort of attack on another case we’re working. Real nasty deal. Thinking serial killer. It crossed state lines so I got called in.” Alone unless Sam could get his head in the game. It wasn’t that he was incapable, but having backup was better than _not_ having backup.

“You’ve got a psycho running around playing dressup and killing people? Well, hope you didn’t have lunch,” The mortician headed over to the wall, pulling out three different body storage units. Not two. “These are the weird ones. If you need anything, let me know.”

Dean checked the tagging on the first two victims before moving to the third. He had a fairly good understanding of what the other two would look like. The third was a mystery and he steeled himself before peeling back the sheet to reveal the completely broken body of a man. He was probably in his late forties and looked like he’d fallen from an extremely high height. Another glance at his toe tag had the cause of death listed on it as ‘unknown fall’.

“Where was he found?”

“Middle of a field.” The mortician answered and he frowned. “Obvious answer is whoever killed him did it somewhere else then dragged his corpse to where it could be found.”

“Do you know if they were able to catch anything on video?”

“You’ll have to ask the detective.” Something itched at his nose. Next to the scent of death but try as he did he couldn’t place the smell. It was familiar and as he moved to the next body, he scanned the room for anything that might be the source of the smell. Nothing.

What was that?

He looked at the second body which was without a doubt the ‘vampire’ kill. He scanned the body for anything out of the ordinary. Things that any other human would discard and throw out of the way because they usually ignored things that were too weird. And when it came to really weird killings off the bat?

Yeah, he was careful. Well aware of the mortician working with a body not far from him. Occasionally she looked his way but for the most part he was left to his own devices.

The third body was the ‘werewolf’ kill but he was also more willing to buy into it. The torso was a mangled mess, barely leaving the chest cavity intact. A wide and gaping slashing that went from the top of the chest all the way to the guts and he was actually surprised that the mortician hadn’t removed the lingering organs.

Or whatever was left of them. It was probably because of the open investigation. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a mortician delay the needed duties for the sake of a pending investigation.

Still, he was definitely smelling something familiar. It was hard to pinpoint with the smell of the dead bodies. But it _was_ there. Without any doubt in his mind, there was a vaguely familiar smell emanating from these bodies.

What _was_ that?

Besides the smell, he wasn’t able to find anything that would lead him anywhere else. Grimacing, he finally left the bodies and approached the mortician again who was checking her watch now. Waiting to leave clearly. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, I’m done. Which detective is working this case?”

“It’s Browning. It’s lunch so you can probably find him down the street eating lunch.” There was a bitterness in her tone. A very obvious “where we should be” without her having to say the words.

“Alright, thank you. Me or my partner might be back to check things over again later.”

“Whatever.”

“One more question, I couldn’t help but notice this… smell? Do you have any flowers or anything?”

“What- oh that? No, it’s some weird consistency with the bodies. I haven’t gotten anything back in lab tests to pin it down but if I’m not wrong, it’s lavender.”

Lavender. Mentally setting that information aside for later research, Dean nodded to the woman. “Thanks. Like I said, we might be back later.”

Without any other words, Dean made his way towards the exit with his mind wandering towards lavender. What the hell was associated with lavender and weirdness?

.-~*~-.

As it turned out, the detective was a lot more willing to talk about the case than the mortician had been. The detective didn’t have a clue what he was dealing with either, though. According to him, there had been nothing consistent in the dead bodies though he had admitted that he was having a hard time feeling bad about the most recent one.

The older man had apparently been arrested several times for ‘spying on women through their windows’ and a more recent charge where he’d been caught hiding in the women’s showers of a local gym.

Aka, a peeping tom that crossed more lines.

Dean was having a really hard time feeling bad too but they had a job to do so after gathering a bit more information off of the detective, Dean got back in the Impala and made his way back to the motel. When he returned, Sam was passed out in the bed which on one hand kept him from having to stress over where his brother was.

On the other, it had him concerned enough that he moved to Sam’s side, checking his pulse just to be sure…

Because the amount of alcohol he’d been consuming had him genuinely concerned. And Dean drank a lot on his own.

Once he found his brother’s pulse he relaxed just a bit and dragged the blanket up and over him before heading into the bathroom. When he emerged from his shower, Sam was awake. Other than looking emotionally drained, he seemed as fine as he could be for the moment and Dean had hopes that his brother had actually slept.

“Did you talk to the locals?”

Clearing his throat, Dean nodded and sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Nothing super useful. There was a new body, though.”

“Who is it and how did they die?”

“Some creeper peeping tom. I don’t remember the name but according to the detective the body showed up in the middle of the campus like he’d fallen off a building. The detective let me take a look at the crime scene photos and they’re speculating that he was dragged there. Honestly, though? I don’t buy it. Ground in the picture looks like he fell there. It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t understand how this fits into any of the crap we’ve seen.”

“There’s no sense to any of it to begin with. This weirdness fits in as well as any of the rest of it as far as I’m concerned.” There was half a second where he’d almost forgotten about the lavender scent. The single strange detail having been lost in the sea of weird that was surrounding this entire situation. “Know anything that smells like lavender?”

“What? Lavender?” Frowning, Sam stared at him.

“Yeah- the bodies. Under the usual corpse stink was this weird smell. The mortician said she was pretty sure it was lavender but there wasn’t anything relating to it in the lab tests.”

“I mean lavender doesn’t connect with a whole lot of specifics, Dean. I can dig through some old books but honestly I don’t have a clue what to do with that.”

“Well, it’s the only link the victims have besides super weird deaths. It’s a start. I was goin' to call Bobby.”

“Yeah, you should do that.” Pausing, Sam shifted to grab a bottle of water from the end table, alongside the aspirin Dean had already left before he got in the shower. “Did you call Dad?”

“You know I did. It was a bad one, Sam. You haven’t panicked like that in months.”

“It was more vivid,” Sam admitted quietly. “They’re always vivid- like I’m sitting in their head. But then they sort of fade. I still see this one crystal clear. I can _feel _this kid’s fear.”

“Did you save him?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled grimly. Gesturing to his phone on the mattress. That explained why his brother wasn’t drowning himself again. He’d woken up to a flicker of light in the darkness. The closest thing they had to miracles. Saving people from a distance.

Saving innocents that they couldn’t have known about.

The downside being his brother getting plagued by visions of monstrous humans.

While he gathered his brother’s laptop and set it on the table he couldn’t help but throw glances in Sam’s direction while he gathered up some clothes until he finally disappeared into the bathroom.

He approached Sam’s bed quietly to pick up his phone and flip it open, checking the text from the detective first who had sent a small message.

_The kid is safe. Thanks for the tip and take care Sam. _

There was also a read text from Jessica that had no response.

_Do you and Dean want dinner here? Ruby is making enough for four._

When was the last time they had a home cooked meal?

Dean couldn’t pin down a date for himself. Years definitely. There was also a text from Dad asking him why he’d bailed on the hunt.

Then there was a text from some unsaved number and it simply said, _Watch your back,_ with multiple responses from Sam asking who it was. Weird.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to snoop in Sam’s phone so he didn’t bother hiding the fact that he’d done it, setting the phone on the end table and grabbing the bottle to take a quick swig of the burning liquid before setting it next to the phone and moving on to his own phone to call Bobby.

He was met with a threatening voicemail and forced to move on to the television to watch the local news for anything new. The problem with bigger cities was things were more strung together and collecting new information was harder because either the detectives were tight lipped or there were a hundred theories out there already and no one had correct information anymore. The news was calling it cult attacks for some unknown reason and they were still looking for what he had dubbed as Peter Pan.

None of it made sense.

When Sam emerged he looked a bit better off, the bags under his eyes less pronounced than they had been in a while and a frustrated look on his face when he spotted the moved phone.

“Find anything interesting?” Dean returned his focus to the TV without actually watching it.

“Are we going to eat there?”

Huffing loudly Dean listened to the rustling of clothes in his bag. “We can. I didn’t know if you’d be interested.”

“Home cooked means we don’t have to buy it. But dinner with your ex sounds like its own set of issues.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m over it before you listen to me? Yeah, it hurt. A lot. But you can’t possibly tell me that it’d be better if I’d started having these visions while I was still with her. As much as I absolutely hate it- whatever that… thing was. It showing up to the apartment probably _was_ for the best.”

That thing. The thing that Sam claimed had been one of his imaginary friends when he was a kid. It had come in and ripped apart Sam’s life and they both wanted it dead for it. Yet, here Sam was more or less thanking it for what it had done.

“And no, I’m not saying I’m happier for it. But you have to be honest, Dean. You can’t tell me that these nightmare visions wouldn’t have been detrimental to my relationship with Jess. Me and her can still be friends, though.”

Except he still gave her puppy eyes when he saw her and Dean _hated_ seeing his brother hurting. They could argue about it day and night and never get any further, though. The argument wasn’t worth it in the end of things. Sam firmly believed that his friendship with Jessica wasn’t dangerous for both of them and that her continued involvement in his life wasn’t a threat to hers. “Hunters can’t have friends, Sammy.” Sam ignored him this time and Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Look, we can argue about this or we can agree to disagree. If you think that we can do the normal stuff, though? Then, yeah. We can try dinner. If you don’t want to, though. We can eat something cheap. I don’t care either way. Believe it or not, I can play nice.”

“Then I’ll let her know that we’ll be there tonight.” So they were trying it. It would be an interesting event to say the least. For better, or worse.


	4. Chapter 3: The Difficult Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this is the first story I have attempted to properly write Dean so I hope I did an okay job last chapter. That said, this chapter is definitely not a Dean chapter.

.-~*~-.  
GABRIEL  
*~-.-~*

It wasn’t often that his comrade summoned him. In fact, it had been a solid thousand years since they spoke. The relationship that they had was on a standard, ‘stay out of my way’ measure.

This was the only time since their deal was made that Gabriel had been _waiting_ for the summoning. It was unfortunate that when he received it, he was knee deep in the corpses of a group of sick businessmen. He hadn’t even finished having his fun yet, blood dripping ominously from the tip of his golden dagger.

That summoning was the only thing that would ever have pulled him away from his fun. Shaking his head slowly, he knelt down to the not _quite_ dead man trying fruitlessly to crawl away despite his broken legs and tapped his bones. Healing him and any of the survivors in the small gesture.

“I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen but it seems I’m going to have to end my fun early. Desperate times and all that. That said, I can’t just _let_ you get away with your crimes. No, no, _no_. You don’t get away with this. Not as long as I’m around. So… what do you say? Pack of rabid wolves? Or should it be tigers? No one ever uses rabid cats anymore, let me tell you. Back in the day, I loved me a good pack of feral big cats. Those claws and teeth are _sharp_. So… How about this. Let’s play survival. Last man standing gets special survival treatment on me when I come back. Assuming anyone’s left standing.”

Standing upright, Gabriel rolled his shoulders and skimmed his gaze across the bloody mess before him, smiling broadly at the absolute horror on their faces.

“I’m thinking… leopards.”

“Please-“ The front man started and Gabriel pressed a finger against his lips, shaking his head slowly.

“Just so you know, those hidden weapons won’t work on them. Hope you’re good at running. Also… you might want to start _now_.”

The eight big cats that Gabriel summoned weren’t necessarily real animals. When he did his dirty work, he didn’t like altering what was natural and what was natural for those animals _wasn’t_ punishing the sick humans of the Earth. But they were real enough. Just real enough that these criminals _would_ suffer.

With a single snap of his fingers, he was gone from the warehouse where the slave auction had been taking place, the police rigged to arrive after the last of them had been killed. The victims were unconscious in the back, drugged according to their bloodstreams. The cops would have questions about the bodies, they always did, but Gabriel was already on the other side of the globe lounging on a beach chair.

“You’re late.” The voice from the chair next to him scowled and Gabriel snorted, stretching out and summoning himself a martini.

“I was preoccupied. What are you doing here? This isn’t your current residence.”

“What I’m doing doesn’t matter.” Gabriel ignored the probing glare being cast in his direction. “_Loki_.” The voice said bitterly and Gabriel scoffed, twisting over in his seat to glare at his mirror image.

“_Loki_.” He mocked the other man.

“This is not a _game_. We have an agreement-“

“Yes, an agreement I’ve upheld without flaw.”

“Until twenty-two years ago.” Gabriel bit his tongue, shaking his head. “Don’t play me like a fool. Our agreement is simple. You borrow my face and you stay _out_ of the angelic side of things. I let that occurrence as well as the following years go because it was harmless to my name. You weren’t _using_ my name. You were under the guise of a nameless angel. Not posing as Loki.”

“I haven’t violated-“

“That’s where you’re wrong. You forget, _angel_. I feel my magic just as sure as you do. I know when deals are made and when you go to _demons_ bargaining for _angel_ blades? I hear about it.”

There was no point in denying what Loki knew and he knew better than to try. Instead and tapped the martini glass across the space between them, it floating seamlessly through the air to the Pagan. “You’re right, Loki. I did do that. I have a very good reason for taking that risk, though. There’s something that you don’t know.”

“What I do and don’t know doesn’t matter.”

“It does if the repercussions impact you and your children.”

Loki considered him for a long moment before taking the drink and sipping it. “What flavor is this?”

“Lotus blossom. My last lover had a fascination with them. Do you want to hear my argument before you banish me from using your identity?”

Licking his lips, Loki eyed his drink before lounging back in his chair again. “Share it.”

“As you know, the angelic Apocalypse has a very linear pattern to it. A chain of events that _must_ unfold.”

“I am aware. Just as ours. What of it?”

“You know where I was twenty two years ago. How much do you know of what happened that night?”

Loki rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. In front of them the night’s events played out -for the most part- in the way he had experienced them. With a major exception to the story.

Where the Fates had interceded, instead rested the events as though they had been done willingly by him.

From Loki’s perspective, he had killed Azazel and willingly given Sam Winchester his blood. Then he had chosen to kill Mary Winchester while John Winchester watched.

“That isn’t how that happened.” Loki clicked his tongue and rewound the scene.

“I know.”

Gabriel scrunched his eyebrows, flicking his gaze to Loki then back to the illusion. “This is, historically, how that night transpired. These are the events that are embedded in _our_ linear timeline. Nótt and Dagr shared this with me with the acknowledgement that there is out of timeline occurrences within it. Naturally, the Norns were recognized. They rewrite and force fates outside of the timeline.”

“Then you know.”

“The Norns do as they please without our interference because they don’t allow anything less. What does their interference have to do with that night?”

“The Fates only allow divisions when it comes to the fate of the world. It’s how they handle the multiple Ends. That night was a fixed point. Mary Winchester had to die there and Sam Winchester had to be infected with the blood of a non-human. That is tied to his ultimate fate and I was unfortunate enough to assume that it was a small piece of his puzzle.”

“You knew none of this back then, did you?”

“No,” Gabriel confirmed. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned further back in his chair and looked up at the unnaturally bright sky. This wasn’t even Dubai. Loki had sucked him into one of his pockets so they wouldn’t have to deal with humans. “I did what I have done since the dawn of time. I knew the fate of a child and I saved it- or I tried to.” The guardian angels had always been his idea. Protectors of humanity. It was a shame that it ended so horribly in the end. Then again, that was a fairly prominent flaw in everything around him.

“You have always been so soft-hearted. Even when drenched in the blood of your victims, your moral compass has always drifted towards protecting the innocent.”

_Oh, yeah._ He’d completely forgotten to clean up before arrival and with a click of his fingers he was clean from head to toe, dressed in hot pink swim trunks that Loki chuckled at.

“My compass stems the same way as yours. We don’t hurt the innocent.” Gabriel reminded the other man. It was why this had worked from the beginning.

“No blood of the innocent. Though, their confusion is always fun to witness. You haven’t given me reason not to retake my identity.”

“Sam and Dean Winchester are the True Vessels of my brothers. The Apocalypse has always had one path it was meant to follow. Azazel and his army-“

“Ah, ah. You’re lying to me, angel. I don’t like being lied to. You’ve already told me you didn’t believe interfering in Sam Winchester’s infection would change anything.”

“That’s because it _shouldn’t_ have. Let me clarify,” Taking a deep breath, Gabriel considered how to approach his explanation before he did so. “When I went to that house, I was well aware of who Sam and Dean Winchester are meant to be. They are my brother’s True Vessels. I know the story that was _meant_ to be spun because I know my own Apocalypse just as well as you know yours. If anything I did shouldn’t have been possible, it should’ve been Azazel’s death.” It took a moment to piece the information together into a short explanation. Much shorter than the full timeline. “Azazel’s army was meant to be born and fight to the death. The survivor of that army was meant to come forward and rule over the demons, assassinate Lilith, and following her death that child would serve as second in command during Lucifer’s return until eventually the antichrist killed him or her. The antichrist would stand with Lucifer then both Michael and Lucifer would obtain their Vessels.”

“And destroy the entire planet.”

“Yeah, and destroy the entire planet. That’s the angels’ Apocalypse. The humans have their own versions of how it would all go down too, of course. Then there’s the other ones, but we were on a beeline for the angels’ Apocalypse.”

“Azazel’s death didn’t stop him from creating his army.” No, it hadn’t. Azazel’s army was still alive and suffering the repercussions of being infected by the blood of a Prince of Hell.

“But Lilith’s ended the angelic Apocalypse. That’s what I’ve been doing, Loki. I’ve been trying to put the puzzle together.”

“The angelic Apocalypse is over. There is nothing left to say.”

“If the angelic Apocalypse is over, why is my brother planning to hunt down his Vessel? Why did a demon tell me that Lucifer has a plan to escape his Cage?”

Loki was quiet this time. It wasn’t very often that Loki didn’t have an immediate response to what was being disclosed. His mind was as quick as his tongue and Gabriel knew so much more than he’d been able to disclose in that moment. He had been working nonstop on gathering the specific information dancing around his decision to interfere since it all began. The problem fell on the _lack_ of it. That demon had been his first solid lead on any specific information and there had been _so_ _much_ he didn’t know. Things that just didn’t add up.

Gabriel didn’t understand what he had done, but what he did know was that he needed Loki’s silence. Lying about being Barachiel had been a bold move on his part but it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows in passing. Unless the name kept coming up.

After all, Michael had killed Barachiel. Fratricide wasn’t something that was easily faked by the victim. Especially when the victim was an Archangel being killed by his much more powerful Archangel of a brother.

“You are trying to prevent the destruction of the Earth,” Loki finally said. His tone was carefully controlled, thoughtful. It was abundantly clear that Loki didn’t want him to read through it which was how Gabriel immediately knew where it was going. What he was about to hear, he wasn’t going to like. “The destruction of the planet has always been inevitable. Whether through mine or yours or any of the others, sooner or later, it will end. When I made this deal with you, you sold your angelic soul to me. You agreed that you would stay _out_ of the business of angels.”

“You always wanted Ragnarök, Loki. That was the end of the line for you.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t how it begins? Ragnarök has always been about the collapse of the worlds.”

“Started by a murder.”

“My indirect murder of Baldur.” Loki corrected with a pleased him, “My favorite iteration, admittedly. But like all Apocalypses, the details are varying.”

“I don’t believe you. The stakes are too high, Loki. The price if you’re wrong? You don’t want angels ruling Earth anymore than I do.”

“Party until the lights go out, angel. I know what you want. I see it clear as day. I know what your end objective is but this isn’t my identity. I don’t consult with demons for answers on angelic Apocalypses. I may attempt to stop it, but it all depends on where these pieces fall. Right now, it’s rumors.”

“Whispers can turn into the the wind, Loki. I don’t believe a word coming off of that silver tongue.”

“Believe me, or don’t. If you continue to find information using angelic and demonic sources I’m ending this agreement. You can keep my face, but my identity isn’t _yours_ anymore.”

“And if I _don’t_ use Yahweh’s sources?”

“Then you can remain Loki. I don’t _care_ if you look into this potential Apocalypse. Whether the world is meant to end or not is not my problem for the moment. I’ll free Fenrir _myself_ before ever allowing your angels to destroy the planet.” Which wasn’t a very helpful revelation. “You can dig for information to your heart’s content, but if you go to Yahweh’s sources? I will inform all of my pantheon, all of _our_ followers, that our bargain has ended and you will be thrown to the world. I will leave you without home nor followers to protect you. Do you know what happens to a being of faith without a following, _angel_?”

“My other identity is very well known.” Gabriel countered, offended despite his knowledge of the situation.

“Your other identity requires that you reconnect with Heaven. Which you don’t want to do. I’m not saying I’m the only Pagan out there willing to share my identity. What I am saying is that out of all of the Pagans that would be willing to do so, my name grants the most to an angel of justice.”

Was it worth giving up this companionship with Loki? To do what? Stop a potential Apocalypse that very well might not even come to fruition?

For a moment Gabriel retreated into his mind and played out everything that had led him to this place. Once upon a time, there had been a child born with one of the worst fates in the world. A child with eyes breaming with the innocence of a newborn. A child that needed protection where no one else would give it.

A child he had protected.

Then that child had grown up as a Hunter because the Fates were unrelenting bitches and Gabriel had tried his hardest to keep his promise as a Guardian Angel. He had tried _really_ hard. Even after all of this time, he was _still_ fighting to find the answer to that child’s fate. Whether he admitted it or not, he had staked his claim on the younger brother. Sam Winchester was his Charge.

_“You won’t leave him?”_ Sully’s voice echoed in his memory like it had for years following the decision to abandon the hunter. The zanna had possessed so much pure and raw faith in him and he had thrown it away. Out of frustration and pettiness.

“I can’t leave this alone, Loki. I just _can’t_. Sam’s… he’s my Charge.”

“_Angel_.” Loki scowled, shaking his head. “I thought you were better than this.”

“You’re telling me to go against my nature to protect the innocent.”

“I’m asking you to consider the repercussions of your actions. We’re a lot alike, angel. If we weren’t, this companionship never would have worked. Becoming half of me was one of your single most intelligent decisions.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, running through all of his options. Any of his possible alternative decisions. “You had to know my choice. Like you said. We’re a lot alike. We’re _loyal_ to our causes.”

Loki rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “This Sam Winchester means that much to you? Enough for you to throw away this thousand year old alliance?” More than a thousand. Neither of them really knew _how long_ it had been, but it had been a lot longer than a thousand years. “Are you in love with him?”

“What- _ugh_. You know I don’t sleep with humans, Loki. He’s my Charge.”

“Charges were _notorious_ for dragging their angels to bed. Don’t forget, I’ve heard the stories of why your Guardian Angel program failed.” It was an unneeded reminder. The reign of the nephilim was one of his biggest regrets. Yet, Gabriel never blamed himself because it was God that chose to _allow_ the crossbreeding. Nephilim never would have existed if not for God creating humans and angels in that way.

“Those charges were adults when the angels entered their lives. I am willing to acknowledge that Sam Winchester is attractive. He is human and I have known him since he was an infant.”

Loki hummed, shifting back into a sitting position and stretching. “So, your choice is humanity. I always knew that they would eventually end our bargain.”

There had to be another option. Something else he could do to maintain his alliance with this Trickster. There was always an _option_.

_“You won’t leave him?”_ Yet again, Sully’s voice echoed through his memory and he pressed his lips together.

“You don’t want me to go.” Gabriel acknowledged what he knew without a shadow of a doubt. “Why aren’t you trying to convince me to stay?”

“Having you at my side has been a major convenience.” It was a ridiculously evasive answer that Gabriel hated because he knew damn well that Loki was going to make him work out his alternative intent on his own. He wasn’t going to get a straightforward answer. Loki was toying with him and Gabriel wished he could be shocked about it. “I can move forward without you, though. I don’t _have_ to have you at my side. Would I prefer the support? Absolutely. You save me a _lot_ of trouble. But it doesn’t mean I have to have you. End of the day, angel? You need me _far_ more than I need you.”

_But I would like to have you by my side. _

Loki was a valuable ally and Gabriel knew it. There was a simple answer to the dilemma. He could lie and Loki would know it but as long as he didn’t catch him, it would be forgiven. Their relationship was built on half-truths and deceptions.

“I see the gears turning in your head, angel. Are you certain you don’t want to reconsider this? Having you at my side is something I want to have.”

There was no way it was that simple. There was a catch. There always was. Loki wouldn’t make this simple. For the same reason he was sure before, their relationship was built on half-truths and deceptions.

“If I stay, what happens if I screw up again?”

“Are you telling me that after all of these years you’ve never read it?” The look he was given was a pure amazement, “You risked breaking that deal with me without knowing the repercussions?”

“You didn’t punish me, did you?” In truth, he hadn’t thought too much on it. Back when he made the deal, he had been grieving the death of a brother at the hands of another.

“I always wondered, but when you blatantly ignored my wishes here? I knew one of two things. Either you’d never read the deal you made with me. Or you _really_ trusted me to be forgiving.” A snap of his fingers and Gabriel had a large scroll in his lap. It didn’t take very long for Gabriel to skim through the words on the document and by the end of it all he was in complete and utter astonishment. If he’d been at all in his right mind when he made the deal, he _never_ would have signed it. Yet, he recognized his name, marked in Enochian at the bottom of the document. Right alongside Loki’s elegant scrawl.

“You didn’t uphold your end of the agreement.” Gabriel said slowly, eyes flicking to Loki who shrugged.

“What’s the point? I have everything I need and what you did was something I always expected to happen.”

“No,” Gabriel shook his head and set the document to the side, meeting Loki’s gaze. “This? What game are you playing, Loki? There is _no way_ you’d pass this up.”

“Why not?” His response was so flippant and casual. Completely content like there was nothing at all shocking about this turn of events?

“All of my powers? This contract is bound in age old magic. Why would you-“ Loki held up his hand and Gabriel shut his mouth, trying to wrap his head around this idea.

“I know you like to put our relationship into the category of business. I like to imagine, in the depths of your mind, that you’re willing to recognize that we’re friends. I could’ve taken your powers the moment you crossed that line and you wouldn’t have been able to stop me. You made this deal with me. You’ve signed your name.”

And he was still locked into it. Loki could betray him at any moment and he couldn’t do anything about it unless he chose to back out of the deal. Because, he was allowed to do that. It was within the confines of the bargain that he could back out of it at any given time.

Gabriel wasn’t stupid or naïve. Angels were warriors at their roots, their core drive was loyalty. They could love as blindly and relentlessly as Lucifer, or they could be as devoid of it as Jophiel had been near the end of their lifetime.

They had friends and enemies and lovers and love. Just like every other being in existence, they could feel.

Gabriel had never considered Loki as a friend because Loki didn’t _have_ friends and Gabriel was careful not to get too close to anyone at the risk of being exposed. The Norse knew, his contract with Loki dictated that the Norse couldn’t reveal his identity. No one but the Norse would ever know if he played his cards right.

There was a loyalty that existed in friendship that Gabriel didn’t think Loki was capable of and part of him instinctively doubted that idea. Even with the information he now had.

He should’ve ended their bargain. That was what needed to happen then. Yet, he wanted to maintain that consistency. The reliability of having the Trickster persona to perform justice under. Loki knew very well that he wouldn’t stop his attempts to help Sam.

Loki hadn’t exploited this deal. He hadn’t used the opportunity to get his hands on Gabriel’s powers despite having the chance for it. At the end of the day, there was no one else he trusted more than he trusted Loki. While he had a hard time associating Loki with the word friend, Loki at the very least thought of him as a friend.

This agreement was a slippery slope, but he was safe for the time being. As long as he was careful. “I’ll stick around, Loki. But not forever. Knowing that now… I need to figure something else out. Something… less risky.”

“As you will do, angel. I’m not going to be generous again, though. If I learn you’re going behind my back? You’ll feel my wrath. Friends or not, I won’t be this generous again. Keep that in mind.”

And he would. From that moment forward, he was going to be _extra_ careful. Because he had a responsibility for Sam Winchester and part of that meant he absolutely couldn’t let Loki pull the rug out from under him and take his powers.

But he still had to get answers. There were too many questions about this Apocalypse that were unanswered.

“Goodbye, angel.” Taking his cue, Gabriel raised his hand and snapped his fingers, leaving Loki alone on his little beach while he tried to plot his next course. He needed to think.


End file.
